I'M MY MOTHER

     Have you looked in the mirror lately?  Are you beginning to resemble one of your parents?  Most of us do!

     We all take after our parents in one way or another.  We have some of the character traits belonging to our mom or dad, such as their eyes, hair, personality, or their smile.  Whether we like it or not we will probably begin to look like one of them, as we grow older.  I know I do.

     When a man picks a woman for his life partner, he only has to look at her mother to see what she will probably look like in thirty years.  My husband saw my mother, short, round, and with a happy disposition, so he must have expected me to become “round” as I aged.  (I already had the happy disposition.)  Well, he was right, I am definitely round…well, not too round.

     The other morning as I stepped out of the shower and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I said, “My God, I’m my mother.”  It was like I was looking into her eyes once again.  It took me by surprise!  I don’t know why, I look a little like my mother.  I guess I had visions of growing old with a slender, well-defined body, and a face with few wrinkles.  That was a daydream; it simply isn’t in the cards.

     I catch sight of myself passing the mirror and I see deep lines that are multiplying daily.  I guess this all comes with age, but I’m not ready for old age yet.  I have too much living to do.

     We all try to put the skids on growing older, with creams, lotions, exercise, and well-balanced meals, but it all comes back to the genes we have inherited from our parents, doesn’t it?  That is unless you work hard at keeping your body tight and muscular, with lots of exercise, which I haven’t.

      Do you suppose it’s too late to firm up the arms that look like turkey waddle, or leg muscles that have atrophied over time?  I do know that walking isn’t enough.  You need a lot more exercise, anything you can do to stay in shape.

      I keep telling my friends that I’m not fat; I’m just short.  If I were five foot eight, I would be slender.  I just need to stretch a little that’s all.  That always makes them laugh.

     It’s too bad I didn’t inherit some of my father’s height; he was six foot, three inches tall.  I could have used some of that height.  I’m only five foot, one.  I didn’t get his height, but I got his type of nose, instead of mothers slender nose.  It’s too bad we can’t pick the traits we would like from each of our parents.  But, we can’t have everything, I don’t know why, but we can’t.  

     With everything my parents gave me, I am still an individual—just me.  And I like it that way.  I would like to think that my parents enjoyed watching me grow into the person I have become.  I know they were proud of me and that’s all that matters.

     I heard a phrase on TV the other night that said, “I may not be the person I want to be, but thank God I’m not the person I used to be.”  

     That says it all.  We are forever changing, to become the person we want to be; an individual like no other on earth.  We are all different, thank goodness, otherwise it would be a boring world…and it isn’t…at least, not my world.